Like an Eagle in a Sunbeam
by technicolour66
Summary: This serves as an alternative arch set after The Rapture. My guilty little pleasure, another of the good night stories I tell myself. Dean / male elf, if the mind boggles at that, don't read. Slashy fic and me, who'd have thunk?
1. Chapter 1

**Like an Eagle in a Sunbeam**

_T. Rex » Ride A White Swan_

_Ride it on out like a bird in the sky ways  
Ride it on out like you were a bird  
Fly it all out like an eagle in a sunbeam  
Ride it on out like you were a bird_

This serves as an alternative arch set after The Rapture. My guilty little pleasure, another of the good night stories I tell myself.  
As I'm wont to do, this little piece takes its title from a song, see above.  
This time, I'm pretty sure the rating MA is serious, we do have both language and sex. Sorry if I may have been wrong before, but being European, I find the rating criteria rather puzzling as a rule…

Scian is pronounced lightly diphthongized as [skiən].

**Chapter 1**

Dean had been drinking solid for days.  
He wasn't even doing the hair of the dog anymore; he had swallowed the whole fucking mutt whole, as it were.  
Through swollen eyes, he watched the dawn's first rays.  
Sam was yelling his head off in Bobby's panic room.  
Dean couldn't take it anymore.  
He wasn't fucking Sisyphus, but he sure as hell got piled one fucked up job after the other on his plate and the more shit he shoveled, the more the powers that be laid on. He was tired and worn and coming apart at the seams.  
Dean motherfucking first seal breaker Winchester, bringer of the apocalypse.  
Dean, the bloody boy wonder singled out to stop Lucifer from rising.  
Come on, dudes, there was only so much one person could carry.  
He hit the wall with his fist until his knuckles looked like minced meat. The pain felt good. Clean, real.

Bobby walked into the room. He took one look at the empty bottles, then at Dean.  
Didn't say a word, had stopped saying anything about that when the yelling started.  
"Bobby, found anything new?" Dean said, enunciating carefully.  
Too carefully.  
Bad sign, that.  
Demon detox 101 was the thing they were researching, only there wasn't a goddamn snippet of information to be found anywhere and Pamela was dead, so no tapping the other channels, either.  
"Found us another seer, maybe. There's a woman in Tucson, Louise Alnutt. Might be the real deal."  
Dean scrambled to his feet.  
Tucson, then.  
"Dean, you can't drive like that. You're fucking shit-faced."  
Bobby looked like he had approximately another 1500 words lined up, aching to get out, but left it at that, because you didn't open fucking Pandora's box, not with the apocalypse looming, not with anything you had ever fought to keep safe locked up in the fucking basement, howling his ass off.  
"And I think a little DUI is the absolute least of our worries," he snapped. He was beyond caring.  
He could drive the Impala in his sleep, if needs be.  
Hell, he HAD driven his baby in his sleep, truth be told.

Dean checked himself in the rearview mirror before getting out of the car.  
He looked like death warmed over.  
His stubble was three days past being stylish and there were dark purple circles under his eyes the size of saucers.  
He usually didn't even notice he had freckles, but his skin was so chalk white that they stood out like beacons.  
He was rumpled, dirty and probably smelled like some cheap roadside bar, too.  
It would take a major miracle for the seer to open her fucking lily-white suburban door to him at all.  
He got out of the car and walked past immaculate lawn to the said door.  
It opened before he could knock.  
A white-haired, grandmotherly woman smiled at him, the blue eyes behind her glasses kind.  
"Good morning, Mr. Winchester. Come on in, coffee's ready."  
Six o'clock in the goddamned morning - how could anyone possibly be this cheerful?  
Dean walked into a flowery-ruffly nightmare of a doll's house.  
"Now, you sit yourself down here and while I fetch the coffee, you will kindly leave that flask of yours just where it is, sweetie." the woman twittered.  
Dean guiltily pulled his hand out of the inside pocket of his jacket again.  
The old lady came back, carrying a tray.  
She put a plate with a ham sandwich in front of Dean and a steaming mug of black coffee.  
"I, uh, I'm not hungry, thank you."  
The woman looked at him sternly over the rim of her glasses.  
"Sweetie, you will eat that sandwich. You can go on a liquid diet when you're my age and don't have teeth that sleep in the same bed as you anymore, but at your age and with your job, you most assuredly should and will eat!"

Dean finished off the last bite of the sandwich, then drank some more coffee.  
"Well, my boy, to business then, shall we?" chirped his host.  
"Now there, you need to cleanse your brother from demon blood. I have found a spirit with some knowledge of the right procedure."  
You had to hand it to granny there; she was the real McCoy with a vengeance.  
She handed him a slip of paper with a symbol drawn on it and an incantation in neat old-lady writing.  
"The ingredients needed for the spell are listed on the back. All but one are common and easy to come by."  
"And the one that ain't?"  
The woman sighed.  
"You need the blood of a mythical creature, willingly given."  
"A mythical creature? What the f… funk would that be?"  
"Well, you know, mythical, as in dragon, unicorn, elf…?"  
Dean laughed. He couldn't stop; his whole body was racked with hysterical, helpless laughter. Laughter that sounded and felt more like sobs, tearing his chest apart.  
So close, so goddamn close, only to have his hope dashed again.  
"Lady," he gasped when the hysterics receded,"thanks for the big steamin' pile o' nothin'. There are no such things as fucking unicorns."  
"Mind your language, boy."  
"Sorry."  
"Well, I am indeed not so certain that unicorns exist and the last dragon, well, that is another story entirely, but elves do exist and I think I can even help you find one."  
"You got to be kidding me."  
"On the contrary, Dean Winchester. On the contrary. Now pay attention!"

Dean drove into the small town Miss Alnutt had pointed him towards.  
The old lady had given him very detailed instructions. And a long lecture on his drinking.  
He had taken both instructions and lecture in stride, but neither had done anything much to convince him.  
An elf.  
Held captive by a nest of vampires.  
Because his blood was the ultimate dope to them.  
Yeah right.  
And he was swatting tiny flying piglets away as he spoke and Satan was skating to work that day.  
Still, he opened the trunk's weapon compartment and geared up for a vamp hunt.  
Better safe than sorry, the cardinal rule of Hunting.  
As he crept into what the old lady had said was the vamps' lair, he was glad that she at least had been right about the tooth fairies, even if the elf would surely turn out to be a total washout.  
They were there all right, a good dozen of vamps.  
He carefully made his way through the sleeping vampires. At the back of the cavernous room, shrouded in darkness, Dean could just make out the figure of a man, chained to the walls.

As he came closer, he saw the man was naked, bleeding from countless bite marks all over his body. The blood was very red against his white skin.  
There was a strange flutter in the pit of Dean's stomach at the sight of his lean body.  
The man was tall and very slim, yet perfectly muscled all over.  
He was slumped into the chains that bound him and looked more dead than alive.  
His hair was unbelievably long, black and extremely tangled and matted.  
Dean put two fingers on the spot where the neck vein should be. There was a faint pulse, but the man didn't stir at all at the touch.

Well, even if the hair freak was no elf for sure, Dean wouldn't just leave him there. He checked the chains and picked the lock that held them tightly in place.  
As quietly as he could, Dean lowered the man to the ground and unwound the chains. Underneath the chains, the man had angry, open sores that almost looked like the chains had eaten into him.  
Dean hoisted him over his shoulders fireman fashion and carried him to the condemned building's entrance. He put the man down again and walked back around the room, liberally sprinkling the vamps' lair with gasoline in strategic spots. There was so much old junk in there that the whole thing would light up like a torch.  
From the door, he flicked a lit match into the room and then ran off as quickly as he could with an unconscious man slung over his shoulder.  
The old building went up in flames instantly.  
Dean turned to watch for a brief moment.  
He wrapped the guy in a blanket and stuffed him in the backseat of the Impala.  
His hand skimmed over the man's chest by mistake, brushing a nipple.  
Dean pulled his hand back instantly as if it had been burned.  
What the hell was wrong with him?


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The motel room was a 70ies nightmare in shades of purple.  
Dean rubbed his eyes and took a swig from the whisky bottle.  
The guy was still unconscious.  
Hadn't woken up as Dean had carried him in here, hadn't woken up when Dean had cleaned him up a bit.  
Now he was starting to dress the man's wounds.  
Dean touched the sore the chain drew across the man's chest gingerly, trying to find out what to use on it. It looked terrible.  
The man gasped and his eyes flew open. He said a sharp word in a language Dean didn't understand.  
His eyes were the colour of smoke and ashes.  
His hair had had slid aside with the sudden motion of the man's head and Dean could see a pointy ear.  
"Holy crap, you really are an elf, aren't you?" Dean whispered. "Holy fucking crap."  
Then, as it dawned on him that he had no clue about what elves were like: "What the hell does one use on an elf's wounds?"  
"Where am I?" the deep voice was weak, but not uncertain or hesitant.  
"Crappy motel room in the middle of nowhere."  
The man's… elf's eyes fluttered shut again.

Dean took another swig from the bottle and decided just to clean the wounds and put some antiseptic powder on them.  
The elf did not regain consciousness, not even when Dean decided to put at least a pair of sweatpants on the dude.  
When he pulled them over the elf's hips, Dean paused. The elf's skin felt so smooth there, Dean couldn't help but stroke the outside of his thighs with his thumbs.  
He didn't know what was happening to him.  
He seriously didn't swing that way, really. But he was, likewise seriously, extremely aroused.  
The elf had the face of a fallen angel.  
Boy, now that phrase had taken on a whole new world of meaning since he had met Castiel.  
But where Castiel looked handsome, but wholeheartedly human, the elf had the kind of face that ancient masters had carved from wood and stone in churches or painted on altars.  
The kind of face that spoke of divine serenity, the kind of face that belonged to a stern, but ethereal keeper of the faith or some such shit.  
The elf's face, in short, was a fucking piece of art.  
Aquiline nose, lips to die for and chin and cheekbones that would be described as chiseled in any of your garden variety bodice ripper.  
A line from an old 70ies song fluttered through Dean's mind "he was the special man, well hung and snow white tan". Holy crap. And then some.  
He was on fire, utterly so. His dick strained against his jeans and Dean's hip made an involuntary shifting motion that almost made him come.  
What the fuck?  
Dean pulled the waistband of the sweatpants resolutely to where it was supposed to sit.  
No way, Jose.

He definitely needed more booze; he was starting to go crazy.  
He didn't want to feel anything anymore, not now.  
Sammy's screams were echoing though his mind non-stop.  
He needed to calm down, distract himself.  
That's what he kept telling himself as he did the most stupid as fuck girlie thing he had ever done in his life.  
But there he was, Dean Winchester, breaker of the fucking first seal of the fucking apocalypse, brushing out the elven dude's tangled, matted hair.  
And taking great pains not to disturb the man as he did it, too!  
Dean shook his head and took another tangled strand in his hand. He held on to the top, while he brushed the bottom bit out, so the elf wouldn't feel the pull.  
The silky, black strands fascinated him no end. They almost seemed to have a life of their own, the way they flowed and slithered over the elf's body.  
So Dean fucking Winchester was sitting here, stinking drunk and with a hard-on the size of Florida, brushing an elf's hair like some little girl with her favourite doll.  
He should go buy himself a fucking Hello Kitty hairdressing kit.

Dean snorted a laugh. Fuck Hello Kitty.  
He lay the brush aside and had himself another drink.  
The tiny vestige of reason he had left whispered that it was not one of his smarter moves to get himself even more shitfaced, given the strange kinks in his sexual orientation all of a sudden.  
He picked the brush back up and resumed his work.  
As he reached for the next tangled strand of hair, he found the elf's grey eyes open and focused on him with a bemused expression.  
"Uh. Hi," he said suavely. NOT.  
"Who are you?" the elf asked in a deep, soft, voice.  
"Uh, my name is Dean Winchester."  
"Ah, the Hunter," said the elf, eyes hardening. "I would have assumed you would consider me something to hunt, not something to groom like a pet."

Dean swallowed hard. He couldn't actively remember the last time he had felt so embarrassed.  
Oh, it still could be worse, though - the guy could notice Dean's erection. Shit.  
The elf's eyes lightened up suddenly and he actually smiled. Those beautiful lips curled into a tired, weary little half-smile that did funny things to Dean's guts and lit his crotch on fire.  
He couldn't let that happen.  
Dean said roughly "You're valuable to me, because your blood can save my brother. That's all you are to me. One blood sample and a fucking chance to cure my brother."  
The elf looked at Dean for a long time. Dean squirmed inwardly under the scrutiny, suddenly acutely aware of just how scruffy and generally pathetic he must look.  
Then the elf said: "The cleansing ritual, I assume. To force Azazel's blood out of your younger brother's body and soul."  
Jesus, did absolutely fucking everybody know?  
The elf continued: "But the blood, if memory serves me right, must be given willingly, or else the ritual won't work."

The human looked like hell.  
Bloodshot eyes of an admittedly very becoming jade green, circles under his eyes that looked like bruises, stubble, skin that hadn't seen the sun in far too long. He smelled strongly of liquor.  
From the stories Scian had heard, he had somehow assumed the Hunter would be taller.  
A shapeshifter he had killed in Oregon had actually snarled at Scian that he wished Dean Winchester would get him. It hadn't helped, Scian had still killed the creature, but in retrospect, it now did seem fairly funny.  
Dean Winchester, bogeyman of the unnatural creatures?  
Still, in spite of his current shape, the human was handsome.  
Scian would like to see the man's quirky, mobile mouth smiling for a change.  
Why had he been brushing Scian's hair like that?  
With that quiet, intent, almost rapt expression on his face?  
Still, it did not much matter.  
The human wanted Scian's blood, nothing more and nothing less. And he was not willing to give it, not like that.  
But those lips… they were… kissable. Eminently so, if truth be told. He didn't want to let this human go just yet.  
So Scian said, before he could help himself, before he could even properly think it through: "You can have my blood for a price, human."  
"Okay," came the terse answer. Scian couldn't help but feel that the human was so desperate that he would be willing to pay any price, even be it his own life, to save his brother.  
"Firstly, I will be present at the ritual; I will not hand over a blood sample to you. That is too much of a risk to me. Blood makes for potent magic, so I will make sure the amount I give to your brother's cleansing will be used up completely in the ritual."  
"Okay."  
"Secondly, you will help me find and kill someone. I give you my word of honour that he is evil and needs to be stopped from doing what he's doing, but other than that, it's a 'no questions asked' kind of deal."  
"Okay." Yeah, whatever. Dean didn't care. Whatever it took to help Sammy. Whatever it took.  
Scian held out his hand to seal the deal.  
The human looked surprised, but put his hand in Scian's nonetheless.  
There was an almost electric spark as their skin touched.  
"Thirdly," Scian thought wryly, "I want your ass in my bed the entire time we're hunting the traitor, but I guess that's not going to happen any time soon."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Dean had showered, shaved and put on some clean clothes.  
He stood at the motel room window and wryly wondered why he had bothered douching up for that elf who hadn't even bothered to tell Dean his fucking name yet.  
He just couldn't deal with the added complications; his life was fucked up enough already.  
Dean raised his flask to his mouth.  
A cool hand gripped his wrist.  
"I see there is a 'thirdly' about our deal after all, "came the elf's deep, resonant voice close, much too close to Dean's ear. "I do not take drunks on a Hunt. So either this stops here and now, or we will have no deal."  
"Trying to weasel your way out of our deal already?" snarled Dean.  
He wasn't about to let that long-haired otherworldly hippie tell him how to live his life.  
He flexed his muscles to continue the flask's way on to his mouth.  
The cool, light grip instantly turned into a steel vise.  
Shit.  
Just how strong was that dude?  
And how fucked up was Dean to get aroused at the thought of the elf using that strength on him?

Scian was angry and frustrated.  
He had fought his way out of bed. It had been very difficult to make it to the upright position, let alone teleport his clothes here.  
He was very weak and most certainly couldn't afford wasting strength and energy on keeping this aggravating human on the wagon and in line.  
He had watched Dean sleep, had watched the nightmares claim him.  
He had seen Dean wake up countless times during the short night and each time had been like watching a drowning man resurface, gasping and fighting for life-saving air.  
It was painfully obvious that the man was in pain. More pain than he could handle, more pain than anyone should handle.  
Still, there was no way around it.  
If that man was to solve Scian's problems, he needed to be sober.  
So Scian held on to that wrist with as much strength as he could muster.  
The bites had already healed off, but the wounds from where they had bound him with Cold Iron were another matter entirely.  
Add that to his already greatly weakened state and Scian came closer to losing consciousness again the longer this battle of wills went on. And letting on just how weak he was, was not an option.

Dean was almost drowning in the elf's smoke and ashes eyes.  
They were too close.  
Light grey, flecked with dark specks and swirls, they seemed to pull him in until they were all he could see and all he could think about. He could feel the elf's hot, soft breath on his neck.  
Dean stopped pulling against the grip of those cool hands with their long, slender, elegant fingers and instantly, the grip loosened.  
Dean shook himself and said roughly: "What I do and don't do is none of your goddamned business, elf."  
"It is while our deal holds," said Scian coldly.

And suddenly Scian just couldn't help himself any longer.  
It seemed like he would shatter to a million pieces if he didn't kiss this man, gave him something else to think about than pain and booze.  
If he didn't hold on hard to this warm, alive body and leave his mark on it.  
So he gripped Dean's hair with his free hand and roughly pulled him close, placing his own lips over the human's.  
Soft, so soft, he almost got off from just touching them.  
Dean was ramrod stiff in his grip. Not actively resisting, just frozen in place.  
Scian ran his tongue lightly over Dean's bottom lip.  
Scian felt Dean shudder and his mouth opening. Their tongues touched, danced over each other, savoured the texture of the other. He licked the inside of Dean's lips and pulled him even closer. Dean melted against him.  
An unexpected gift for a being who had all but given up on life already.

Dean was hard instantly.  
He hadn't expected anything like this, especially not when the elf had been so cold and determined only seconds before doing the unthinkable.  
The unthinkable.  
Playing along with Dean's fantasies, fantasies he had never even consciously known he had or wanted, had never known he could imagine before.  
Whenever he had woken up during the night, he had looked across the room to the elf in the other bed, thinking about how he wanted to slide under the sheets over there and just let his fingers explore that beautiful body.  
He had remembered how his fingers had touched the elf's nipple in the car and his erection would become acutely painful.  
He was completely fixated on that tiny area of the elf's body, utterly lost in his own desire.  
He had wanted to take that nipple in his mouth and play with it with teeth and tongue and lips until the elf would moan with pleasure.

During the night, Dean hadn't even dared to go to the bathroom to toss himself off, for fear the elf would notice – and now here he stood, pressed hard against the elf, playing hide and seek with his tongue.  
He felt acutely helpless and he was loving it. He wanted to be pinned down, controlled, dominated. He wanted every kinky thing in the book, every single one he could imagine and all the ones he couldn't as yet imagine as well.  
Given that he hadn't ever had anything going with a guy before, he felt that he was being pretty cool about it. On top of that, the elf wasn't even his own goddamned species!  
Did that make this whole gig more kinky or less?  
His mind went blank when his crotch collided with the elf's hard thigh. He rubbed himself against it and saw stars.  
He disengaged his mouth and took a deep, gasping breath.  
The deep, satisfied chuckle from the elf made itself felt in Dean's entire body.  
"At least tell me your fucking name, before you drag me to bed to fuck me." Dean gasped.  
Scian laughed again.  
The human was indeed an unexpected gift, like a drink of water after hours of sword practice on a hot summer day, a feast when one had gone hungry for a long time, undisturbed, peaceful sleep after weeks in battle.  
"You may call me Scian. It means knife in Gaelic."

Knife. Phallic much? What kind of a name was that?  
Dean laughed, too.  
The elf pushed Dean back on the bed, then lowered his long, lithe frame over him.  
Dean moaned as Scian's weight settled on him.  
He put his hands under Scian's shirt and started to run his hand over the elf's abdomen. When he accidentally touched the wound the chain had made, Scian winced slightly and Dean quickly placed his hand high on the elf's chest.  
In the meantime, Scian had made quick, very quick work of Dean's clothes.  
There were decided advantages to being a creature of magic.  
One thought and all the fabric that covered Dean's body did the time warp - so to speak took a jump to the left and landed in a heap on the floor next to the bed.  
Scian let his eyes roam over Dean's body. Dean's delectable, tight body.  
Scian began to lick a trail from Dean's Adam's apple down his nicely muscular torso. All the way down.  
Dean was frantic. He wanted to touch Scian. Badly. But his hands were shaking so much in his excitement that he couldn't get the elf's fucking fly open.  
To make matters worse, Scian picked this particular moment to grab Dean's wrists and pin his arms to the mattress beside Dean's head. "Keep 'em there," he ordered sharply.

If Dean were to touch him now, Scian knew he would come.  
Millennia of practice and this human turned him into an out of control heap of nerves and hormones within seconds.  
He had to slow down.  
With terrible deliberation, Scian sat up, ignoring Dean's sounds of protest and ran his hands slowly along the inside of Dean's thighs.  
He lightly cupped Dean's balls in one hand, running his thumb over Dean's penis.  
It continued to amaze him just how soft the skin there was, how silky the shaft felt. A small drop of precum had gathered at the tip, glistening like a pearl.  
"Speak with me, Dean."  
"C-can't. Can't think. This is too good. Please…." Dean made almost mewling, needy sounds, eyes pleading with Scian. "I don't know what to do, I never… this is the first time… with a man… I… help me."  
In spite of Dean's obvious neediness, he kept his hands obediently by his head, balled so tightly into fists that the knuckles were stark white. That alone was unbelievably arousing to Scian.  
It was no use.  
Scian couldn't pace himself, not this time. He'd just have to see that he would get another opportunity to savour sex with Dean more fully.  
He got rid of his own clothes and without further ado proceeded to bring them both to the climax. He didn't think it would be a good idea to press for penetration the first time.  
He placed Dean's hands on his shaft and wrapped his fingers around Dean's.  
They went over the edge together.

They got into the car around noon.  
Dean couldn't believe he could forget Sammy like this, simply forget the mess his little brother was in and go and have a roll in the fucking hay with a total stranger.  
He really hated himself with a fiery vengeance and he couldn't even drink the feeling off, because the said stranger would end their fucking deal and then Sammy couldn't be saved at all.  
Dean didn't believe that just because they had had sex, Scian would forget what he had said.  
The rules were the rules with the elf, Dean was sure.  
Dean noticed that Scian opened the Impala's door with his jacket pulled down over his hand, so that his skin would not touch the handle.  
Jeez, what was up with that now?

Scian could see that Dean had pulled back from him, had untangled himself from the strange new thing that was them.  
The human had gone back to the misery he apparently was used to dwelling in. Dean Winchester lived in a world of pain, that much was obvious and it meant that it was good if he distanced himself from Scian, who might only add to that at the end of the day.  
It had felt like there had been something special between Scian and Dean, but the elf could ill afford to dwell on it.  
It wouldn't change anything anyway, since he wasn't free to give himself completely in the first place. Since he wasn't free to do anything except hunt the traitor Terendil and – after all was said and done – die a miserable, lonely death when it was all over.  
He had nothing to give, except the bitter taste of ashes.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Dean was driving like a maniac, trying to make up for lost time by speeding even more than his usual wont.  
Scian sat next to him, seemingly completely relaxed, as they sped towards Bobby's place.  
Dean was chewing his lip.  
He still couldn't quite wrap his head around what had happened between him and the elf. The whole having his man on man cherry popped issue wasn't even the most puzzling thing about it. The neediness was, the way the whole thing had absolutely engulfed him, the total loss of control.  
And let's not forget the way he only had to cast a glance at Scian's still form next to him to be up in flames again.  
The vibrating hum of the Impala under his butt didn't exactly help with that, either.

Scian was watching Dean's hands on the wheel.  
Strong and capable, they gripped the Impala's steering wheel tightly.  
Scian was hypnotized by the leather bracelet Dean wore on his right wrist.  
His fingers were itching to play with it.  
His fingers were itching to do a lot of things, actually.  
Since the catastrophe had happened, he hadn't felt like this anymore.  
He had had indifferent sex with people who didn't leave any impression behind, whenever he had felt he needed release, but this went far beyond that.  
It was Dean he wanted, not merely the physical release with some handsome body. And somehow, this morning's bitter thoughts stopped to matter in the face of the reality of Dean Winchester beside him.  
Available. Hot. Brilliantly alive.  
Scian put his hand on Dean's thigh.  
The Impala briefly lurched to one side suddenly. The hands gripped the wheel tighter, knuckled white.  
Scian smiled.  
Didn't look like the human had distanced himself completely from this morning's hotness, after all.

Fuck fuck fuck.  
That touch went through Dean like a bolt of lightning.  
Through the worn-thin denim of his jeans, he could feel the warmth of Scian's hand as immediately as if the barrier of cloth weren't even there.  
Shit, and the elf had noticed how much his touch had affected him. Hard not to notice, when he had almost driven the Impala into a ditch.  
Hot damn, now Scian was tracing lazy circles on Dean's thigh with his thumb.  
Then the long fingers were sliding inwards and downwards, bringing the hand perilously close to Dean's traitorous erection.  
Dean hit the brakes, banked a hard right and swung the Impala into a byroad.  
"Have you gone fucking mental?" he yelled at Scian when they had stopped.  
"Yes, apparently so," said the elf in a low voice.

Dean wasn't sure how he got there, but suddenly he was facing the elf, kneeling over his lap, as it were, kissing him like there was no tomorrow.  
Dean's ass was pushing against the dashboard and something hard and uncomfortable was pressing into his thigh, probably the window crank. It didn't matter.  
He managed to take one hand off Scian's body long enough to find the lever of the reclining seat and offered a quick prayer to whoever had thought to buy this optional feature for the Impala way back before he had even been born.  
They slammed downwards, Dean landing hard on top of Scian. He tasted blood, but it didn't matter. He just kept on kissing Scian as hard as he could.  
His hips were rubbing over the elf's thigh.  
He was so aroused that the friction almost hurt.  
Almost, but somehow not enough.  
He pushed harder until his tender, swollen flesh hurt just right.

Scian ignored the copper taste of blood in his mouth.  
He was pinned down most deliciously by one out of control man and enjoying every second of it to the fullest.  
He let Dean rip open his shirt, buttons popping every which way.  
Of course, Scian could technically have easily disrobed them both again as soon as Dean had started his assault, but he was enjoying the rough play for too much to spoil the fun.  
He gasped as Dean bit down on his nipple. "Yes!"  
Dean didn't need encouragement.  
He wrenched down Scian's zipper and roughly grabbed the elf's cock.  
Scian laughed and felt it was high time for him to get back in command again.  
He pushed at the dashboard with his legs, bringing them further backwards. "Move over. There, on the backseat," he gasped.  
Dean complied.  
"Now turn."  
Dean's pants did the time warp again, leaving his backside bare and ready for Scian. The elf entered quickly and Dean saw sparks once more.  
They were so overexcited that it didn't take long for them to finish. The elf expertly took Dean's cock in his hand and pushed Dean over the edge. Scian followed quickly behind.

Perfect, just perfect.  
Dean was swearing under his breath as he accelerated.  
More delay, just what they needed.  
He needed to get back to Sammy, needed to put things right again.  
He overtook a car in front of them and narrowly made it back to his side of the road in front of the oncoming traffic.  
"You do want to bring us to your brother in one piece, don't you?" said Scian softly.  
"Don't worry, I know how to handle my car."  
"I don't doubt it. But you're not alone on the road and other people might not know how to handle their cars quite as adeptly."  
Dean gritted his teeth and just kept on driving.

They pulled into Bobby's lot after dark.  
Bobby marched out, looking pale and worn.  
"And? Got something?"  
"Yeah, seer was the real deal."  
Scian got out of the car.  
"Who's he?"  
"I got the cure. He's… part of that."  
"Bobby Singer." Bobby walked towards Scian, hand outstretched.  
Scian shook it and said: "My name is Scian. I have heard much about you, Mr. Singer."  
"Call me Bobby. So, what are we waiting for? Sam's in really bad shape, we should hurry."

Sam was still howling his head off, his voice sounding hoarse and raw.  
There were no discernable words anymore, which was somehow better, because at least he wasn't yelling for his brother to save him anymore. On the other hand, it was worse, because it meant Sammy couldn't even form words anymore.  
Dean's hands started shaking again and he really, really did not want to have to listen to this without anesthesia by Dr. Beam, Dr. Daniels or Dr. Walker.  
Scian was watching him intently as Dean was assembling the spell's ingredients.  
The human looked terrible.  
The howling increased in volume and Dean dropped the bottle of wormwood he was holding.  
When he straightened up after picking it up, the elf was gone.

Scian unlocked the iron door, taking great care not to touch it with his skin.  
Dean's brother was tied to a cot, still screaming.  
Scian walked over to him and put his hand on Sam's forehead.  
The screams stopped.  
All the Cold Iron around him made Scian feel weak and nauseous, but he would see to it the young man would stay calm until the ritual was properly prepared.  
It just wouldn't do if Dean would drop something at the wrong moment or would get distracted.  
Dean stormed into the room, face white.  
"What the hell…"  
"It's alright, he will remain calm now."  
"Are you blocking him from screaming?"  
For one awful moment, Dean imagined his brother screaming helplessly on the inside of his head, unable to let the pain out. But the elf was shaking his head.  
"No, I am keeping him calm and painless. It would be good if you left, you are distracting me. It is hard to concentrate in a room made entirely of Cold Iron."  
"Cold Iron?"  
"It's what you use to kill an elf." Scian said calmly. "It's poisonous to us. Hence I would greatly appreciate it if we could do the cleansing outside."  
"Thanks for doing that for my brother."  
"I'm not doing it for… him."  
Dean looked in Scian's eyes. The elf looked tired, exhausted.  
"We'd best get him and you out of here right away."  
Dean untied his brother and hoisted him over his shoulder.  
The elf followed him upstairs.  
On the narrow staircase, he almost fell.  
Being in the iron room had greatly weakened him.  
He kept forgetting that he wasn't whole anymore, hadn't been whole in a long time. He gripped the railing hard for a moment, until the dizziness stopped.

Bobby and Dean walked out into the yard to draw the symbol for the ritual.  
"What's the deal with that guys?" Bobby asked.  
"He's an elf."  
"A what?"  
"You heard me alright, Bobby, Scian's a fucking elf. The ritual needs the blood of a mythical creature and since apparently unicorns aren't real and some shit or other happened to the last dragon, he's what we got."  
Bobby opened his mouth, then shut it again.  
And here he had thought he's seen it all. An elf. Holy guacamole.  
They started drawing the circle.  
Bobby looked a couple of times as if he wanted to say something, but then thought better of it.

When they came back into Bobby's living room, Scian was assembling the potion.  
Sam was lying on the sofa, still calm. He looked like he was asleep.  
The elf drew a wicked looking knife and calmly made a deep cut in the palm of his left hand. He then proceeded to let his blood dribble into the glass with the potion.  
He wrapped a piece of cloth around his hand, turned to the men and said: "We can proceed. Let us bring him outside now."  
As Dean walked over to his brother, Scian stopped him with a gesture of his pale hand.  
"The cleansing will be exceedingly painful and I will not be able to do anything about that while the ritual is going on. Stop it and we might not have another chance."  
"Understood."

The night was drawing to an end as they started the cleansing.  
Bobby forced the vile smelling potion down Sam's throat, then Dean read the words.  
A long, long time, nothing happened.  
Then suddenly, Sam started to twitch.  
Convulsive spasms shook his entire body and he started to gag violently.  
It got worse and worse.  
Dean made a motion as if to run to his brother, but Scian held him back.  
"If you stop it now that he drank the potion, we can't try again. My blood will then be useless. You must wait for it to run its course."  
It looked and sounded as if Sam was being pulled apart by the spasms and the retching. He thrashed on the ground, rolled over to his stomach and pulled himself on his hands and knees. Finally, he spat out three drops of thick, black, viscous stuff.  
Dean looked at the elf questioningly.  
Scian nodded.  
It had worked.  
Sam Winchester was free of Azazel's blood.


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter 5_

Dean was sitting on the dented hood of a scrapped car, steadily emptying a bottle of Johnny Red. Some fucking ce-le-bray-shun, this.  
Didn't even know if there was anything to celebrate at all yet.  
Sammy had not come to, just been sleeping this unnaturally deep sleep. No way of telling if his baby brother was okay or not. No way.  
Fuck it all.  
He took a swig.  
The tall, lean silhouette of the elf appeared on the edge of his vision like a ghost.  
"Calling off the deal now?" Dean said softly, eyes hard and cold, raising the bottle in mock salute. Daring Scian to get in his hair about getting drunk.  
Aching for a fight.  
Aching for sex.  
Just plain aching and needing someone to make it better. Or worse.  
"Not unless you are too stingy to share," said Scian in a calm voice and took the bottle from Dean's unresisting hand.  
He took a hearty swig.  
"Not one of my vices, stinginess." Dean laughed harshly, as he grabbed for the bottle again.

Scian looked at Dean with those damned all-seeing eyes of his.  
"What is worrying you? I assumed we cleanse your brother and you'd be happy. Or happier, at least."  
"Can you guarantee he'll be okay now?"  
He should have known this question would be asked.  
Scian pondered the query and the layers of meaning it contained.  
Should he give false assurance to the human, just to make him feel better?  
"No, Dean. There are no guarantees. The ritual has been proven to work, yes, but as with all cures, there are no absolutes."  
"And that means exactly?"  
"That means there is no telling if his soul was already corrupted too much to regenerate. Only time will tell."  
"Fuckin' brilliant," said Dean and took another swig from the bottle.

Scian reached up and cupped Dean's cheek.  
Instantly, the expression in Dean's eyes darkened and he pulled the elf firmly towards him. He gripped Scian's upper arms tightly.  
The bottle dropped to the ground with a thud.  
Dean assaulted Scian's mouth roughly. Tongue, teeth, lips meshed, sucking and twirling and caressing over and over until he thought he'd faint from either the lack of air or the sheer fucking awesomeness of this kiss.  
He grabbed Scian's shirt with both hands and ripped it open, buttons popping in all directions. He laughed, softer and darker this time. Man, but the elf had one fucking gorgeous, hard, sculpted body.  
Dean raked his nails over Scian's back.  
The elf groaned with pleasure.  
Too much fabric between them, just too fucking much.  
"Time warp, Scian." grunted Dean.  
"What?"  
"Clothes. Jump to the left. Now."  
Scian laughed, a very musical sound that Dean hadn't heard from the elf before.  
Pure joy and sex and totally sinfully delicious.  
And then Dean's clothes finally did the Time Warp again and Dean just HAD to demonstrate the pelvic thrust.  
It hurt so good.  
And Scian was so much in control of the whole thing again, it was unreal. How had that happened again, when only seconds before Dean had done the grabbing and kissing? But that was the biggest turn-on of them all, wasn't it.  
Surrendering to the elf.  
Utterly.

Scian was playing with Dean, making him beg for mercy.  
He didn't flip him over this time, he wanted to watch what the things he was doing did to Dean. Wanted to see Dean's lovely green eyes glaze over with lust, wanted to see the total surrender in them.  
Gods, this felt so beyond good.  
Dean, hot and pliable in his hands.  
Dean, writhing as the elf inserted first one finger, then two into the tight ass.  
Dean, yelling at him to put his fucking dick there instead so he'd finally have a fucking chance at fucking coming.  
Dean, wedging his hands into the gap between window and hood and hanging on for dear life, bucking and swearing until Scian covered his filthy-cute mouth with his.  
Scian pulled his fingers out and immediately felt Dean's moan of protest in his mouth.  
He replaced his fingers with his cock in one fluid movement.

Dean whimpered, the sound all but lost in the elf's mouth.  
So good.  
It was just not possible for something so fucking wrong to feel so fucking good.  
Dean just rode out wave on wave of absolute pleasure.  
He wanted to say something, to say anything, but Scian was still in control of his mouth as well as the rest of his body, plundering and sucking at will.  
When the elf finally wrapped his long, beautiful fingers around Dean's dick, he just couldn't hold it in any longer.  
All it took was one single deft downward stroke and Dean came in one giant, hot wave of pleasure.  
Scian followed only fractions of a second behind.

They lay exhausted on the dented hood of the car.  
"Must have gotten a couple more dents in the process," thought Dean wryly, massaging the back of his head, then gingerly probing his sore right elbow.  
Didn't matter. What a fucking ride.  
A cool breeze washed over them.  
Dean got goose bumps, but the sensation of that breeze on his far too sensitized nipples made him rock hard yet again.  
Didn't go unnoticed either.  
One elegant hand snaked out to gently pet him.  
Scian's thumb traced the vein on Dean's cock lazily, up and down and up again.  
"Can we go somewhere a little more comfortable and a lot warmer, please," purred the elf.  
"Th… the Impala," whispered Dean.  
"Knew that a bedroom would be too much to hope for."  
The hand squeezed lightly but expertly and Dean almost fell off the hood.

Bobby was pacing.  
Sam was sleeping, Dean had grabbed a bottle and gone outside and where that damned spooky elf had gone, he had no idea.  
How could they be sure the cure had worked? Yeah, right, so Sam had vomited those three drops of… something, but did that really mean he was gonna be okay?  
The there was the way Dean was avoiding his eyes, like, constantly.  
What the hell was up with that? What had the boy done to enlist the elf's help?  
Bobby wasn't sure if it was technically possible to sell your soul to an elf and what the fuck the consequences were if you did, but something was up and that something sure didn't look good.

Finally, Dean came in.  
Man, that boy sure looked like hell.  
Smelled it, too, sweat and booze and something else Bobby couldn't quite make out.  
"Dean…"  
"Yeah, what?"  
"Sam's still sleeping. No change. Looks pretty peaceful, though."  
"Guess we'll see when we see it, then." said Dean curtly.  
"See what?"  
"If it really worked."  
Dean walked to the sofa and lay down, closing his eyes, thus effectively ending the conversation.  
So Dean was thinking along the same line.  
Well, figured, for despite the fact that everyone always thought Sam to be the brains of the outfit, Dean was no fool.  
Especially not when it came to this shit.

Scian sat in the backseat of the Impala, legs propped up, trying to find some rest.  
He was exhausted.  
Dean had agreed to start helping Scian to find Terendil as soon as Sam woke up, if Scian agreed to talking Sam along.  
He hadn't wanted to, but Dean was adamant in that respect. Not letting his brother out of his sight. Take it or leave it kind of deal.  
Well, Scian had felt that the other battle he had won had been more important, so if Dean wanted his little brother there, then so be it.  
Was it mean to counter Dean's stubborn statement with an equally stubborn one of his own?  
Was it mean to say, "sure we take your brother, but we'll take a double room, you and I, every fucking night"?  
He would have Dean in his bed right until the end and that was all that counted.  
Scian would be able to grab a little bit of happiness before the night would claim him.

Dean couldn't sleep. He was cold and miserable on the sofa.  
Plus, being drunk led to being maudlin' and it all would go downhill from there. What he really wanted was a bed, with Scian's hard body pressed against his. Solid, reassuring and warm.  
He got up with a groan, grabbing two blankets.  
At least Bobby had finally gone to sleep, so he could sneak out unnoticed.  
He found Scian asleep in the Impala.  
He sat down in the driver's seat and lowered the backrest down a bit. If he now turned his head, he could watch Scian's sleeping face. He put one blanket over the elf and wrapped himself in the other. He rested his head against the cool upholstery.  
Dean's eyes drifted shut.  
He dreamt of cool hands on his heated body.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Bobby woke abruptly.  
He got up quickly and went to check on Sam, who was still sleeping. The same calm, quiet look on his face.  
He then walked into the living room to see if Dean was up, but he wasn't there. And neither were the blankets.  
Strange.  
Bobby went into the kitchen to make them some breakfast. He had just finished frying the bacon, when Dean walked in. Still looking like a walking health hazard and smelling worse.  
"Breakfast'll be ready in five."  
"'Kay, just gonna go take a quick shower."  
A couple of minutes later, the elf strolled into the kitchen.  
"What, errm, what do you usually do for breakfast?"  
"Eggs and beacon look divine, Bobby, I just can't drink coffee."  
"I got some herbal tea somewhere, would that do?"  
"Yes, thank you."

Bobby watched the elf.  
There was nothing much to give away that the man at his kitchen table was anything other than human.  
Yes, he wore his hair extremely long, but then again, a lot of people had their little idiosyncrasies.  
He was tall and slim, but again not so much so as to look strange.  
"Is there anything you would like to ask me?"  
The elf's voice was cool, amused.  
"How do… When one meets… how…"  
"How do you tell you're facing an elf? And presumably even more importantly, because you're a Hunter, how do you kill us?"  
"Something like that. Only I wasn't gonna be so rude. At least, tryin' not to be." Bobby said gruffly.  
Scian pushed his hair back from his left ear.  
"I'd say this is one dead giveaway."  
Bobby whistled.  
So they did have pointy ears, just like in the freakin' Lord of the Rings movies.  
"Caffeine is another. It's like heroin times ten to us, so we will avoid it. Cold Iron is the next. Meet someone who avoids touching metal surfaces with his bare skin and you know he or she is an elf. Unless, of course…"  
Scian held his hands up.  
They looked like they had been badly burned. Angry, raw, welts all over.  
"Unless the elf did touch metal by mistake or because he's a seriously kinky sumbitch and then winds up looking like this."

Dean gasped at the sight of Scian's hands.  
He hadn't even paused to think what would happen to the elf, naked on the hood of a car.  
Metal everywhere, you idiot and you just dragged him down there.  
Scian turned at the low gasp and looked Dean in the eye.  
He shook his head almost imperceptibly.  
It didn't really matter.  
You just took a little bad with the good, that was all.  
Given Dean's reaction, it was a good thing the rest of it was covered up nicely with clothing.

Of course, Dean didn't take the hint.  
"What the hell were you thinking?" he yelled at Scian.  
"I was thinking that I had far too much fun to suggest a change in location." Scian replied impassively.  
"We could've fucked just as well in the fucking car!" Dean roared, totally oblivious of his surroundings.  
Ladies and gentlepeople, the cat was now officially out of the bag and it was the size of a well-fed tiger, standing there smack in the middle of Bobby's kitchen.  
And of course, Sam Winchester chose this precise moment to make his presence known.

Bobby was shocked beyond words.  
So that was what Dean had sold to get the cure for Sam.  
Jesus Christ.  
Jesus…  
Dean's casual outlook on all things sexual was legendary, but to sell his ass to save his brother was just not something you just went and did.  
Bobby didn't know for sure if Dean had ever tried that out before, but as far as he knew, the boy had never done it with a man.  
And now he was pimping himself out to that elf.  
Jesus…  
Bobby hit the table with his fist. He should've been the one driving to the seer. He would've made a different kind of deal.  
Suddenly, there was a cool hand on his arm.  
The elf was talking. Looking at him intently.  
"Dean did not sell himself to me to get me to help Sam." Scian's voice was calm, reassuring.  
"Our deal is for his help to find and kill someone I have been looking for for a long time."

Him and his big mouth, him and his goddamned temper.  
He should've thought about what he said before he said it, not after.  
Not when Bobby looked ready to strangle him and Sammy looked ready to puke.  
He ran his hand through his hair.  
"Yeah, the rest is just a fringe benefit."  
More shocked, glassy looks.  
"C'mon, guys, you know I fuck anything that hasn't climbed a tree on the count of three." False cheer dripping from his voice like wax from cheap candles.  
His face was feeling stiff, foreign.  
He wrenched his mouth into a grin that was so blatantly fake that it made his face ache.  
Bobby strangely enough looked relieved at that.  
Sam, however, still looked good and ready to hurl.  
"What happens when we find and kill the guy you're looking for?" asked Sam in a cold voice.  
"You… will be rid of me."  
"Okay, then I need all the information you have. I go do research."

Scian walked out into the furnace that was Bobby's lot at noon.  
He had just given Sam every last bit of information on Terendil he could give, while keeping the more personal and acutely painful stuff to himself.  
Just talking about Terry made him want to go and put both barrels of one of Dean's gun in his mouth and just pull the fucking trigger.  
Dean was sitting in the shade on an old car seat, staring into space.  
"I was not going to say anything to Bobby about what goes on between us. I wouldn't even have kept you to your word about the double room, you know."  
"I know. My temper sucks and I can't keep my fucking mouth shut."  
Scian sighed, searching for something reassuring to say.  
"At least Bobby seems fairly okay with it, now that he no longer believes I bought your favours."

Scian walked across the last stretch of hot sunlight that separated him from this totally aggravating and totally fuckable man.  
He knelt over Dean, pinning him down on the old car seat.  
Scian looked at Dean intently, trying to figure out just what made that man explode with the truth like that, without a second thought about his status or the way people he cared about might view him now.  
The answer came promptly.  
"Why the hell did you not stop me, you stupid fuck? Look at your hands, dude!"  
Dean was worried about him. How… novel.  
"This doesn't signify. So there was a little pain mixed in with the pleasure. Good for me."  
Scian's face was totally unreadable.  
"I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed, okay, but I'm not a total tosser. I know the hands aren't all. I remember what we did, Scian, all of it and no way are the hands all that got hurt."  
"If so, I think that is my problem, not yours."  
"Bullshit."  
"I know how I react to Cold Iron. I have known so all my life. And my life has been longer than you can imagine. You, on the other hand, have known me the grand total of two days. Well, almost. What blame can possibly fall on you for any of this?"

Dean looked helplessly up in Scian's face.  
"I should've… I…"  
"I am so much older than you that robbing the cradle would be the understatement of the millennium. I am not your little brother whom you have to take care of."  
"Dammit, Scian…" Dean shifted in the seat.  
"Do that again and we'll end the discussion immediately in favour of something completely different." said Scian in a low, intense voice.  
And Dean just had to repeat the motion.  
Had to, stupid jerk that he was. Not a dare in the known universe he wouldn't take on, no matter how stupid.

No more talking now.  
Dean ran his hands across the car seat.  
Not much exposed metal.  
Maybe he could keep Scian from touching it, if he kept at least a little bit of control.

Scian took Dean's hands in his and removed them from the car seat, placing them on his own body instead.  
"Not your responsibility."  
Dean moaned by way of a reply as Scian's wickedly knowledgeable hands danced over his body.  
Scian conveniently had done the time warp again and their clothes were lying in a heap to their right. Now he was paying special homage to the work of art that was Dean Winchester's left nipple.  
He bit down lightly and was rewarded by a sexy groan.  
He licked, teased and sucked.  
Dean was shifting restlessly underneath him, trying to give Scian easier access to the rest of his hot, needy body.

He wanted to make it all up to Scian, had to make it all up.  
It was his fault, after all, so he should take special care to see…  
"Stop that right this instant, or I will simply get up and leave." snapped the elf. "What part of 'not your responsibility' didn't you understand?"  
Did Scian read minds?  
"Don't get up, please."  
Was that his voice?  
This pleading, needy as shit mewl?  
No way!

Scian covered Dean's mouth with his.  
Softly this time.  
He gently licked Dean's lower lip, then sucked it into his mouth. The mouth then wandered along Dean's jaw to his ear.  
"I have played this game so much longer than you, mo chroí. Trust me to know what I am doing."  
Scian's breath in his ear, who would've thought that even that would be intensely erotic.  
"What does mukree mean?" asked Dean, his fingers entangled in Scian's hair.  
"Just a term of endearment. No big."  
Scian blew softly in Dean's ear.  
Dean bucked.  
Scian cupped Dean's balls in one hand and squeezed lightly.  
Dean gasped.  
"I must admit I have never before been this partial to fuck in this position, but I do so love to watch you react to what I do to you."  
With a wicked laugh, Scian pushed Deans legs further apart and entered him with one swift stroke.  
And reason and the hot South Dakota day just went away completely.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Sam was furious and shocked and half a million other things he couldn't even wrap his head around finding a name for.  
No matter what Dean said, no way was his brother allowing that hairy freak to touch him voluntarily.  
Dean had made a deal, that much was certain because it was what Dean did.  
And Dean did it, because he sadly lacked both the imagination and the brains to try for anything else.  
Sad, but true.  
And because Dean was so…  
Sam's stomach churned.  
Because his brother was so fundamentally unintelligent, he had locked Sam up in the basement and had sold his ass to an elf to take their only real weapon, their only chance, out of the equation. His power.  
The apocalypse was looming ever closer and his big brother had fucked up.  
Again.

Sam kept scanning the net for info on that guy the elf was seeking, as he kept sending desperate text messages to Ruby.  
The bitch wasn't answering her phone.  
The bitch didn't answer his text messages.  
There had to be some way to get his power back.  
There just had to be.  
He couldn't be like this, not now.  
Why wasn't that fucking skanky demon whore answering her fucking phone?

Scian was running his fingers through Dean's hair, while his thumb was caressing Dean's ear.  
"How do you feel?" he whispered.  
"Mmmmh, fine."  
"And about everyone knowing?"  
"Was me who spilled the beans back there, wasn't it?" Dean said softly. "Can't very well complain now, can I?"  
"That wasn't what I asked" Scain said quietly.  
"With the way we keep jumping each other's bones, was only a matter of time until Bobby or Sam would've caught us in the act, anyway. Much rather tell them, so they now will think twice before barging in on our alone time."  
Scian laughed.  
"Besides," Dean continued, "I suck at keeping things to myself, they do tend to spill out when I'm mad or drunk, or both."

Scian shifted a bit.  
He was sitting on Dean's lap.  
He had let their clothes do a reverse time warp, just to be on the safe side, should Bobby or Sam feel inclined to come looking for them.  
Dean had laughed so hard at finding himself suddenly dressed, that Scian warped the clothes off and on a few times, because he just wanted to listen to that laugh, to see Dean's beautiful eyes light up again and again.  
That slight shift in his position just now had been enough to get Dean hard again.  
The length of Dean's erection pressed hard against Scian's hip.  
The elf traced lazy circles around Dean's right nipple with his left index finger. Through the soft cotton of Dean's t-shirt, he could feel the nipple harden.  
Scian laughed again.  
"What's so funny?" Dean asked.  
"A long time ago, someone told me that the best sex in the world was to be had with a man with sensitive nipples."  
"And?" Dean asked in a husky voice.  
"Turns out he was right about that, even though he was wrong about absolutely everything else."  
Scian pinched the nipple lightly and was delighted at hearing a sharp intake of breath.

They had gone back into the house; it was just too hot to stay outside.  
Dean looked in on Sam, who was still doing research and seemed to be pretty pissed off at not getting any results.  
Wasn't often that Sam had snapped at Dean like that for just asking how he was doing.  
Dean was a tad perplexed by that and the dark look he got from his brother, but when he asked what was wrong with Sam, he got no reply.

When Dean got upstairs, he heard violent retching from the bathroom.  
He hurried inside to see Scian half collapsed on the floor in front of the toilet, puking his guts out.  
The elf heaved a few more times, then stilled.  
Dean knelt down and took Scian in his arms.  
He was scared.  
The elf looked like hell and Dean could feel Scian's heart hammering against his ribs as he held him tight.  
"It's because of this, right?" Dean asked in a quiet voice, his hand taking one of the elf's in his, turning the burned-looking part to the light.  
"Yes and no." Scian's voice was weak, his eyes closed.  
"Cryptic much?"  
Dean kept his voice quiet, biting down hard to the impulse to shout in frustration and worry.  
"It's because I am dying and given that fact, exposing myself to Cold Iron was probably not one of my smarter impulses. So, hence it's yes, the Cold Iron and no, normally it wouldn't be this bad for a healthy elf."

Dean's mind went completely blank with shock.  
Dying? How could the elf be dying?  
They had only just now gone right up to the seventh inning stretch. Scian had been so much in control, had been so full of… life!  
Didn't LOOK like he was dying, either. Well, HADN'T looked like he was dying, not before.  
"Being with you…"  
Scian sighed.  
He had hoped Dean would take just a little longer with his brother and so wouldn't notice anything wrong.  
He couldn't explain it all to the human.  
Dean would never help him kill Terendil, if he knew.  
"Being with you warms me, helps me, makes me a little stronger. I forget how bad it is, really, when we're together. Don't worry, I'm fine."  
"Fine, yeah, sure. Except you're DYING, isn't that what you just said?" Dean spat out, still trying very hard not to shout and not managing all that well anymore.  
"Well, there isn't anything you can do about that, so you shouldn't worry about it too much." Scian's voice was level.  
"Did you just tell me not to worry, cuz I can't do anything about you dying?" Dean yelled.  
"Dying, as in… shit."  
Dean got up and ran out.

Scian laboriously got up. He walked the few steps from bathroom to bed with difficulty and sat down heavily.  
Why had he told Dean he was dying?  
He could've found other explanations, especially since Dean didn't know a thing about elves, really.  
He could've said and done any number of things, but he hadn't.  
And at the end of the day, it was pretty obvious why he hadn't.  
He cared about this strange human.  
Cared so deeply that he didn't want Dean to develop an attachment to a dead man, even if that dead man was at this point technically still walking.  
Better Dean knew.  
Even if it might mean that Dean would not allow Scian to touch him anymore. Even if it meant that the little bit of light left in his life would go out.

Sam looked up to see a white-faced Dean run outside.  
What now?  
Had that hairy freak wanted things Dean wasn't willing to give? And what could that possibly be.  
We were talking Dean here after all.  
Sam laughed. It was an ugly sound.  
Who would've thought that there was a limit to the perversions his brother would engage in?  
Sam shook his head.  
He needed to find a pointer and fast, so they could be rid of that elf.  
He checked his cell.  
Still no answer from Ruby.

Dean was…  
He couldn't even say what he was feeling.  
Except that it was bad, worse than anything he had ever felt except when Sammy had died and he just wanted for it to stop.  
He took a length of pipe from a pile of stuff.  
He gripped it tightly in his hands and started swinging it at an old Dodge.  
Dean kept hitting the car until he was soaking wet with sweat, totally out of breath and his hands were bleeding.  
And then he started hitting it harder.  
When he finally stopped, he felt ready to drop.

"Are you feeling better now?" came the elf's deep, musical voice from behind him.  
"Yeah."  
Outright lie.  
Didn't feel better one bit.  
He tasted blood – must've bitten his lip at one point.  
Dean stiffened as Scian placed his palm on his sweat soaked back.  
"May I not touch you anymore now?"  
The voice was soft, very low and sad.  
Scian waited a few seconds for an answer, then took his hand away.  
Whatever the hell it was Dean wanted now, that wasn't part of it. The spot on his back felt cold and empty. The absence of Scian's hand was almost painful.  
"Put your goddamned hand back where it was. Right now." Dean growled.  
The hand resumed its former resting place.

Dean just stood there, with Scian's hand on the small of his back.  
The elf didn't know what to make of that, except that Dean at least seemed unwilling to completely discontinue their… involvement.  
He sighed and said: "Dean, I…" He paused, not knowing what he was supposed to say.  
Dean said roughly: "Don't bother saying anything unless you can tell me the truth. I don't want any feel-good, girlie bullshit from you."  
Scian hadn't ever told anyone the whole story.  
Mostly, because none of the elves had been willing to listen and there never had been anyone else he had let close enough to merit the truth.  
He felt himself sway. It was simply too hot out here.  
"Can we please go back inside and find a quiet place where we can talk?"  
Dean turned and after one look on Scian's face grabbed the elf's hand and started walking towards the house again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Scian sat heavily on the old bed in Bobby's upstairs bedroom.  
The room had been basically unused since Bobby's family had died. Everybody seemed to be prefer sleeping on the floor in the living room to this room with its bad memories, but they had needed to be alone, so Dean quickly tossed some clean sheets on the dusty old mattress.  
"How much of the fucking truth have you already edited out of the story right now in the time it took us to get here?" Dean asked resignedly.  
Scian laughed. It was not a happy sound.  
"I actually tried, but it's hard to leave things out when the story is supposed to still make sense in the end. I think it will be… In the end, you will learn more than anyone else has ever known about me."  
Scian looked tired.  
"Will you sit here with me while I tell you everything?"  
Dean sat on the bed, not touching Scian.  
Scian sighed and moved back on the bed until he could rest his back against the wall.  
Dean followed suit, but still kept his distance.

It's hard to know where to begin. How much do you know about elves already, Dean?"  
"I read Tolkien and I got you hurt because I didn't know about Cold Metal." Dean looked upset.  
Scian rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath.  
"The Elven Kingdoms exist in a parallel reality to this. You need magic to travel from one reality to the other. And yes, there are even more realities," Scian said with a half smile, interpreting Dean's cocked eyebrow. "Some are nice, others are… fairly scary."  
"Elves are basically immortal, unless someone kills us with Cold Metal or unless we get tired of life. I am older than you can possibly imagine. I am, in fact, so old that I am the last of my kind in all of elfdom. I was bred, raised and trained to be an Azeel, the ultimate warrior, to protect my kind without fail."  
Scian shifted uneasily.

He had never had to explain himself to anyone.  
That was one advantage of being older than anyone else, they just knew who he was right from the start. Also, being an Azeel, not many people had dared to ask him direct questions in the first place.  
He felt very uncomfortable telling his story. Part of that was definitely due to remembering his home and knowing he would never see it again, knowing that when his time came, he would not be buried among his kin. It hurt beyond words.  
Dean moved closer.  
Scian pulled him the last stretch of the way and held him close. He buried his face in Dean's neck for a moment, breathing in the smell that was Dean, taking comfort from his unsought for and totally unexpected lover.  
"It's easier to talk when I can hold on to you, Dean."  
"'Kay."

"Where was I?"  
"Azeel."  
"Yes. We were taken from our families as small children, given a new name and trained to fight against all enemies of the elves. It was a very hard training, brutal even and not many were strong enough to complete it."  
Scian paused again, remembering the days without food, the beatings, the relentless exercises. He remembered how lonely and how frightened he had been as a child.  
He had spent weeks in lockup, because he refused to cooperate, because he so desperately wanted to go back to his parents. In the end, they had succeeded in forcing him to comply.  
He had vowed then that it would be the last time anyone would ever make him do something he didn't want to do. His vow had not been broken yet.

"The Azeel were once very powerful. The powerful tend to be feared and so I was alone. All of my life, I was alone. Until I met Terendil."  
Scian paused. Terendil was blond and beautiful, with his blue eyes and ready smile. He had won Scian over in next to no time.  
"Elves only mate once in their lives, because the ritual we go through fuses the two individuals together in such a way that it cannot be broken. It ends when either of the partners dies. The other will then die, too."  
"So… it's an until death parts ya deal, only not even death parts ya. Is that what you're saying?"  
"Yes."  
"The what the fuck happened?"  
"It was wonderful for a while. I was very happy. Then, 86 of your years ago, it turned bad. I don't know why, it just did. And I knew nothing about it until Terendil went and tried to betray the Queen."

Okay. Elves, we got.  
We knew, we got.  
And know we're in Queen and betrayal of kingdoms territory.  
Okay.  
Whatever.  
And Scian and the bad guy used to be an item.  
We got that.  
We hated the thought of it, but… we got it.  
And he's been single for 86 years.  
Holy crap.  
86 years.

Scian kept talking.  
"He tried to gain dominance of our world by performing some heinous ritual. Tried to set himself up above the Queen and on top of that, the King, too."  
"The King and Queen don't rule together?"  
"No, the King is ruling the seleighe Shidhe and the Queen the unseleighe Sidhe. Two kingdoms, the Kingdom of Day and the Kingdom of Night."  
"Day and Night? Like, light and darkness, good and bad? So, there are two kinds of elves? Bad guys and good guys, or what?" asked Dean.  
"No, not really. Basically, we're two sides of the same coin. I'm not going to go into detail here, it would take too long to explain it all. Suffice it to say that such a deed would be inacceptable to either side."  
"Because the King and Queen would lose their power?"  
"No, what Terendil did would have destroyed both Elven Kingdoms utterly."

"But what then? If the kingdoms are destroyed, what was there to gain?"  
"Power. Absolute power. There are enough rogue elves out there to form an entirely new kingdom and those rogues would side with Terendil, if it meant their bans would be lifted so they could return home."  
"You would have tried to stop him, I guess."  
"Yes, with all my power, even knowing it would mean the end of me. It has been my calling during the last millennia to protect elfdom. I was Captain of the Queen's guard, but in a case like this, I would not only have protected her and hers, I would have laid my life on line just as gladly to protect the King."  
"And Terendil knew that, of course."  
"He knew all there is to me. There are no secrets in a life bond. It is like an umbilical cord between the two partners. You nourish each other, you know each other. It's the most wonderful feeling in the world, being connected like that."  
Scian paused, his face so full of pain that Dean didn't know what to say. He clamped down hard at the jealousy that had threatened to choke him at the elf's word and just pulled Scian closer, giving what comfort he could.

Scian took a deep breath.  
"Terendil managed to sever our bond. It damaged me, damaged me badly. So badly that there is no recovery for me anymore. I am dying."  
It hurt like hell to say it, even after such a long time. Talking about what had happened felt like someone was dragging long, sharp fingernails over the Cold Iron burns on his body.  
"But how? I mean, if you're dying, shouldn't he be dying, too? You said it was a mutual thing, didn't you? If you sever such an… uh… umbilical cord thingy, the damage would run both ways, wouldn't it?"  
"He's found a way to keep himself whole, apparently. I don't know how he did it. It felt like a wall going up at the same time as the bond ripped apart."  
"What about the other elves, didn't they help you?"  
"Nobody believed me. Not that I knew nothing of Terendil's plans, not that I was still loyal to the Queen, not that I would do anything to find and stop Terendil. The Queen banished me. I can never go home now."  
"So why even bother to try and find the fucker? Why not simply forget about him and enjoy the rest of your days?"  
"I am Azeel. I am honour-bound to stop anyone from harming my world. It is all that I have left now, my little bit of tattered honour and the will to bring Terendil to justice."  
Scian sighed and ran his hands over his burning eyes again.  
"Terendil came here. There is something here that he needs to try again to put his plan in action. And I will stop him, even it is literally going to be the last I do."

Dean took Scian's face in both hands and pulled him close until their foreheads touched.  
"You can't die on me, man. I just… I just found you, dammit."  
Dean touched his lips to Scian's, very gently.  
He wasn't trying to start anything, not when they were supposed to be talking about what was going to come and how it had come to it. And how they could fucking stop Scian from dying. Priority numero uno and don't you forget it, Dean Winchester.  
No, he wasn't going to start anything.  
He just needed to feel the elf so badly, he couldn't help himself.  
Scian's lips parted immediately and their tongues started their mating dance. The kiss quickly grew more heated as their tongues entwined and Dean pushed the elf down on the bed, despite his good intentions.  
Dean's hand rubbed over Scian's crotch, discovering to his glee that the elf was already hard and ready.  
Scian untangled his mouth long enough to gasp: "Undress me, too tired for time warp."  
Dean popped the button of the elf's pants and pulled the zipper down. He could feel Scian's deft hands doing the same for him.  
Dean pulled Scian's shirt over the elf's head.  
He wanted so badly to caress the white skin. He ran his hands over the elf's six pack, then up over his chest. It felt softer, yet at the same time more resilient than human skin, thought Dean. His fingers were tingling with an overkill of sensations.

Dean bent down and licked a trail from Scian's left nipple to his navel. The elf tasted of sunshine, herbs and spices. Dean sucked some skin into his mouth and bit down lightly.  
The elf shuddered and moaned, as Dean's tongue continued down South.  
He took the elf's cock in his mouth. Scian's hand promptly landed on Dean's head and the elf's long fingers gripped Dean's hair, pushing him down, encouraging him.  
Dean explored the whole length of Scian, over and over again, he just couldn't get enough of the taste and the texture. His entire body was humming with pleasure.  
He pulled back a little and just ran his tongue lightly over the elf's shaft.  
Scian made an incoherent sound, then gripped Dean's shoulders and pulled him up. The elf kissed Dean hard and turned him around , then he slid himself into Dean.  
Apparently, the elf would only allow Dean for so long to be in control.  
Suited Dean just fine.  
All coherent thought vanished in red hot cloud of lust, as Scian pounded into Dean.


End file.
